


Masquerade

by OrchidQueen



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Additional tags to be added once the sex gets more intense, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Human/Vampire Relationship, Long-Haired Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Masquerade, Oral Sex, Smut, Vampire Sex, Viktor spelled with a K cos it seems more vampy, listen I'm such a mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-07 01:19:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18400205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrchidQueen/pseuds/OrchidQueen
Summary: The Masquerade isn’t for the faint of heart. “Blood Brothel,” the humans call it; a vampire haven the likes of which hasn’t been seen for centuries.For Viktor Nikiforov, though, the whole thing has become a bit dull. The thrill he gains from drinking human blood is the only thing that keeps him interested in the place, and even that is dwindling. He is almost ready to give it up altogether, and become the vampire his father has always wanted him to be. That is, until a human man walks through the doors, and stirs something inside Viktor he hasn’t felt in a long, long time…





	Masquerade

The Masquerade wasn’t for the faint of heart.

The club was supposed to be the city’s most well kept secret, hidden amidst the tangle of trees and swirling mists of the old Cirstorm woods. But though the establishment was boiled in mystery and steeped in intrigue, it was the farthest thing from secret. And it was the town’s eternal shame.

“Blood Brothel,” the humans called it. A vampire haven the likes of which hadn’t been seen for centuries.

Nevermind that the building that held the club took _years_ to complete, designed and paid for by—and this secret was, indeed, well kept—an anonymous donor who clearly had an eye for Gothic beauty, even in this day and age. Nevermind that the building looked like some sort of archaic cathedral; white stone stacked to the domed tower that loomed in the sky above you upon walking up to the front door, like a nightmare from which you’d never want to wake. Nevermind the fact that whomever built the club might have had a real, romantic vision in mind at it’s opening. A vision of unity, of union—in more than one sense of the word.

The fact was, the place had become the butt of many nervous jokes and uncomfortable whispers about town, and maybe it was right to have been. While it may once have been elegant and sophisticated, the Masquerade had now become little more than a blood-fueled orgy, with a bit of dancing mixed in for atmosphere.

Still, it was an _experience_ , and one for which many humans were willing to pay a handsome amount of money.

Thoughts like this were never far from the mind of a certain Viktor Nikiforov, even now, as he made his way downtown one warm spring evening. Buds were in the midst of blooming; the choking cold of winter was being pushed back by the cool, insistent hand of the shifting season; the sun was low and bloodred in the sky.

However, Viktor could not seem to bring himself to care about any of it, no matter how lovely it might have been. He had just had an especially nasty fight with his father earlier in the day, one that resulted—as it usually did—in slammed doors and the ringing sentiment of _I wish you weren’t my son, you ungrateful bastard._

Frowning slightly, Viktor pulled at the brim of his black hat with gloved hands. His pace quickened with the memory, kicking up a flurry of pollen as he continued down the sidewalk of the city’s main street.

_You aren’t the only one, old man._

A tiny, silvery bell dinged when Viktor pushed open the door to his favorite clothing shop, much of his tension receding the moment he stepped in. It was comfortable here at Katsuki’s—he had thought so since the day he had discovered it, years and years ago, nestled humbly beside the larger, flashier buildings that surrounded it. There was a certain kind of coziness to the brightly colored costumes that were draped over the mannequins dotting the room. A certain kind of grace in the swaths of fabric that hung haphazardly from the wall and the counter and the front table, behind which, currently, a middle aged woman was cutting cloth.

Hiroko Katsuki offered Viktor a wide smile when she saw him, and he smiled back in return.

“Viktor!” She rushed to grab his hand, shook it so warmly Viktor almost wanted to pull her in for a hug. He stayed back, of course. It was never a good idea to get too close. He didn’t have a mother of his own, but he never realized how much he craved that maternal touch until he was face to face with this delight of a woman. “Right on time. Toshiya is bringing your piece from the back.”

As if on cue, the man pushed through the door that led into the back of the shop, a deep purple bundle of fabric in his arms.

“Ah—Viktor!” he said, every bit as warm and inviting as his wife. “This piece is stunning, if I do say so myself.”

Hiroko rolled her eyes, playfully smacking her husband’s arm. “It’s only stunning because you barely had a hand in making it.”

Toshiya remained cheerful as he motioned for Viktor to follow him to the back room. “Well, I had a hand in making our son, didn’t I? Still makes it half my work.”

Hiroko snorted goodnaturedly. “Ignore him,” she said to Viktor, who was practically itching to get his eyes on his newest commission. He had ordered this particular piece several months ago, tired to death of the usual bland, black attire his father always had him wear.

Viktor followed through the familiar hallway to the very back of the shop, where a section of the room was curtained off and filled with mirrors for fittings. Eagerly, he took his costume from Toshiya’s offering hands, and went to put it on.

Christ, the piece was beautiful, and it fit like a dream. The deep midnight purple contrasted well with his pale skin, and the whole thing was accented with small silver beads placed strategically to resemble glittering stars. The back was cut low, revealing more of his smooth, snow-white skin than he might have liked. But tonight was about taking risks—taking chances. He would never get anywhere if he didn’t show a little skin, right?

Viktor snorted as he twirled and admired himself in the mirror. No, that wasn’t true. Not by a long shot. After all, humans paid top dollar for the services he was providing. And on top of that, Viktor already knew that he was especially handsome—even for a vampire.

“Your son made this?” Viktor asked, opening the curtain to face his favorite humans. “It’s exceptional. He’s incredibly talented.”

“It helps to have a model’s physique,” Hiroko said with a wink, and Viktor laughed aloud at that. If only she knew. “It’s his first commission after being overseas for so long,” the woman continued, her expression becoming softer when she spoke of her son. Viktor tried very hard not to feel jealous. “He was so worried about making it perfect he must have gone through three or four full tries before he finally settled on this one.”

Viktor raised his brows. Must’ve gone through four times the amount of fabric, more like.

“Where is he, by the way?” Viktor asked, closing the curtain and slipping out of the costume once again—albeit regretfully. “I’d like to thank him in person.”

“Oh, he’s gone to visit a friend,” Hiroko answered. “He’s been working his poor fingers off, I’ll bet he’s thankful for a break.”

“He must be exhausted,” agreed Toshiya.

Five minutes later Viktor was at the front desk, cradling his newest acquisition in his arms. Wrapped in plastic, of course, for protection. He paid three times as much as they were asking, and left with a wave before either of them could count the change. He owed it to them, he reasoned, if their son really wasted all that fabric making _his_ costume.

He clutched the plastic bundle tightly as he walked, nearly giddy with anticipation. Not of the Masquerade—no, he was used to that place, and that bone-deep thrill it had once given him had disappeared long ago. The only excitement he got out of it now was the small thrill of disobeying his father. Then again, he did that every single day, just by being alive. Which was almost funny, considering how he came to exist in this world to begin with.

These days, the Masquerade was just a pleasant escape. And it didn’t hurt that he got to eat. _Really_ eat. Human blood was hardly easy to come by these days, especially with the rise of those pesky anti-vampire laws.

Not that Viktor would ever even dream of killing anyone, anyway. He wasn’t like his father.

Viktor took a deep breath, a smile twitching on his face. The sun was gone, and the air smelled of night, of revelry and mischief and _freedom_. He had only been to the Masquerade one week earlier, but it already felt like forever since he had danced and laughed, since he had been held and touched and fucked.

Well, as fucked as he could ever be, when it came to humans. Their kind tended to sort of tap out the moment Viktor’s fangs sank into their skin, wrapped up in the overwhelming pleasure his bite provided.

Which was never _too_ bad, he told himself. Human blood gave him a certain kind of satisfaction in itself, in any case.

He headed in the direction of the woods, where the building was hidden deep within the shadows of this rotten town. It was a miracle any human ever made their way to the Masquerade. The woods were a creepy place—even Viktor shivered as he entered their particular darkness and began to make his way toward the clearing in which he and Christophe had met every Saturday night for the past eight months.

Then again, any human who was willing to pay money to be inside a room of masked vampires, must have been pretty tough to begin with.

 

* * *

 

Really, Viktor should have known better than to be excited.

Christophe had ditched him almost immediately, as usual. Not that Viktor blamed him—Christophe’s craving for blood seemed to be stronger than most. It was a good thing the man had a mild nature— _emotionally_ , at least. Otherwise, Viktor might have seriously feared for the lives of his clients.

Anyway, Viktor was bored. Increasingly so, as he leaned on the far wall across from the massive entrance, able to watch patrons enter the building firsthand. Nobody had yet asked him to dance, which was a bit unusual and had his pride bristling like an angry cat. Not that it would take long. Someone always asked.

He reached a hand up to touch his mask. An ornate silver beauty—only covering the eyes and nose, of course—perfectly matching the stars on his costume. A color that screamed, in accordance with the Masquerade’s dress code, _I prefer men_. Viktor wanted to laugh. What would his father think if he found out?

It was hilarious, really. The whole club was owned and operated by his father’s men, but the old man would never dare step foot in a “place like that.” It was unseemly, he would have said—had said before, many times in fact, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the very thought. As if the entire establishment hadn’t been his idea in the first place. As if he weren’t raking in money due to the place’s success.

Viktor ran his fingers through his long silvery hair, pushing the thoughts away. Perhaps that was why the humans seemed to be avoiding him today; perhaps his annoyance was too obvious. Then again, half the time he found himself at the Masquerade he was pissed at his father for some reason or another. He looked down at his outfit. Perhaps it was too flashy.

Perhaps his father was right. About some things, anyway.

Viktor scowled, rejecting the thought with enough malice to cause a few nearby humans to begin to inch slowly toward the other side of the room. Not even in his waking nightmares did his father know _anything_ about him. Nothing.

Viktor sighed and straightened, taking a single step away from the wall. He might have left, then, prompted by the dark thoughts that were suddenly pounding at his brain. But the great double doors opened, and a man walked in.

  
\--

  
On Viktor’s eighth birthday he was given a box. A gift from some estranged uncle or another, rich beyond reckoning, both in wealth and useless possessions that, more often than not, turned out to be stolen from their rightful owners. This particular box had been of dark wood gilded with golden accents, smooth and polished on the outside with an interior of exquisite black velvet. The box, upon being wound by a key on the bottom, would open to soft, tinkering music, and a small figure twirling in time to the delicate notes within.

Viktor wasn’t quite sure what it was about the man that had brought the music box to mind. Maybe it was the careful elegance with which he moved—an unlearned thing, almost as if he didn’t realize the grace of movement he possessed. Perhaps it was the color scheme of his outfit—similar to Viktor’s own, he noted. Deep blue and black, with a mask of silver matching Viktor’s. Light, flowing fabric draped over his body, rippling like water when he moved.

Viktor stepped back, leaned once again against the wall. The man had already attracted a few glances—and more eyes found his as he walked further into the room. He seemed aware of them, but he ignored them as he turned about the room, glancing around as if he were looking for someone in particular.

Strange. Viktor was sure he had never seen this man here before. He was clearly nervous—Viktor couldn’t be sure, but he thought he could see his hands shaking.

There was something about him, though. Viktor couldn’t tear his eyes away. Others watched him as he walked, too—and it certainly wasn’t because he looked like an easy target. At least, Viktor didn’t think so. He usually had an eye for things like this, and the hunger that followed the man was a kind with which he was all too familiar. He felt his mouth quirk into what could almost have been described as a smile.

How interesting.

Nothing to get his pants in a bunch over, though. As far as he was concerned, humans were hardly ever interesting enough to hold his attention for too long. And anyway, from the way the other patrons were starting to grow bold and make their way toward the man, Viktor knew he likely wouldn’t get a dance with him tonight.

Still, he watched. It was against the establishment’s rules for the vampires to approach the humans—something about making them feel safe—making them feel like _they_ were the ones that were in control, somehow. That particular rule was not always followed, and tonight was no exception. A few gloved hands were extending toward the man, a few fanged smiles flashed thoughtlessly in his direction. Though Viktor wasn’t close enough to hear, he knew the kinds of charming words his kind used to lure humans to their beds. He knew it all too well.

He watched as the man accepted the first hand that came his way, timid and clearly growing more flustered by the moment if his body language was anything to go by. And from the look of the vampires who stepped back, the way they had their bodies angled toward the man as if he were tonight’s grandest meal—yes, it was very unlikely Viktor would be able to cut in. Not without some sort of altercation or another.

He sighed again, feeling oddly heavy all of a sudden, and pushed himself off the wall. His gaze lingered on the man, though, as he made his way to the front doors. The music hadn’t started back up, and by now it was obvious how much the man was shaking. Ridiculous. If the man was so damned afraid why the hell had he come to a place like this?

He reached the doors. Reached a hand toward those ornate handles. It was obvious the man was here just for one reason.

It was common knowledge that, for humans, the chemicals released from a vampire’s bite made for a sensation that was beyond anything sex could offer. Viktor had seen it enough firsthand to wholeheartedly believe in that little fact. And combining the bite with the act of sex? Well, Viktor had certainly never had any complaints.

As a vampire himself, however, there wasn’t anything extraordinary about it. Sex was just sex; and blood was simply food. _Good_ food, maybe. Great food. But still food. If there was anything that could heighten _his_ appetite, he had yet to find it.

The music started playing—a strange and discordant waltz—and he made the mistake of looking back.

The man began to dance, and Viktor’s hand dropped back to his side.

He wondered if he would have been able to tell, if he hadn’t been watching so closely. Vampires were naturally more graceful, but the human man’s short, gruff looking partner clearly didn’t know what he was doing, and their dance together certainly wasn’t anything spectacular. In fact, Viktor lost count of how many times the human flinched when his partner stepped on his feet.

But Viktor could tell. As could, he assumed, the rest of the onlookers--the man knew what he was doing. It was evident in the way his shoulders had relaxed as soon as he’d started moving, in the way his posture had become more confident, and his movements—when not marred by his clunky partner’s—were obviously learned, honed the way a skill could only be built by practicing for years and years.

The music ended, and the man pulled away, took a large step back from his partner. His timidity was back, worse than before now that he was being swarmed with outstretched hands and masked, pointed invitations. Viktor almost felt sorry for the man. But he was the one who had paid for this.

The human took a step back, glancing in the direction of the door as if he might try to escape. As if he were in some kind of danger. Their gaze met, and the human’s eyes widened. Even from this distance, even shadowed behind his silver mask, Viktor could see the fear in them.

Viktor moved. He wasn’t sure why, but he moved. He started toward the man as if his gaze were pulling him, compelling him somehow. At the same time, the human turned, slowly, began walking toward him as well.

They met somewhere in the middle. Viktor frowning down at the man, brows slightly furrowed. The man’s eyes shining up at him, fear now mixed with something else, something like wonder, or possibly confusion. It was hard to tell with the mask covering most of his features.

Viktor opened his mouth to speak, unsure, exactly, what he meant to say.

“Dance with me,” the human said. “Please.”

Viktor blinked. Nodded. A slow smile spread on his face—a wolfish smile. That was more like it.

Another piece of music began, ringing through the room, and Viktor grabbed the man’s right hand, settled his other on his hip. He could feel the seething anger radiating from the crowd of vampires around him, but he ignored them, focusing instead on this strange man in front of him. The man whose fear had now fully disappeared, for some unidentifiable reason.

Later, Viktor would dream about that first dance. About the way the two of them were able to communicate through nothing but touch and movement. About how their bodies seemed to fit together like they were made to fit together. About what he could see of the man’s face—his full lips and his dark lashes and his warm brown eyes.

It was true that Viktor had had a bit to drink tonight. But it was nowhere near enough for the alcohol to be the reason his head suddenly felt light, for that dreamlike haze to overtake his senses.

“Thank you,” the man breathed as they moved together. His voice sounded oddly familiar, though Viktor couldn’t even begin to place it.

“I trust all of your toes are still intact?” Viktor asked, voice bubbling with amusement.

The man chuckled as well, pulling away as Viktor spun him round slowly, leaning closer as the music swelled. Christ, he smelled good. Like fresh soap and flowers.

“It’s not entirely his fault,” the man said. “I’m not used to leading.”

Viktor swept his gaze over the shorter man, interest piqued. “But you are used to this?” he said. “Dancing, I mean?”

Viktor could see that the man’s eyes were wide under his mask. “Ah—sort of. Not with a partner, usually.”

The music sped up, a single violin note piercing the air. On a whim, Viktor tightened his grip on his partner’s hand, spreading the fingers of his other hand wider against the man’s waist. “Is that so?”

The man flushed a deep scarlet in answer, and Viktor was suddenly very, very thirsty.

“So what brings you to our humble establishment?” Viktor asked, wanting to hear the man speak. Wanting to hear more of that melodic accent he couldn’t _quite_ place.

“It wasn’t really my idea, I—I came with a friend.”

“Did you?” Viktor pressed his body closer to the man’s, knowing full well the effect it had on most humans. He ran his tongue over his teeth, let his fangs show—just a flash. A tease. He _was_ curious, though. He wasn’t going to mention it aloud, but he had seen the man come through the front doors alone. “Where is this friend of yours now?”

The man looked a bit shocked at the closeness of Viktor’s body, entirely red in the ears. Viktor repressed his sudden urge to bend down. To run the tip of his tongue over that delicious red. “He—he kind of ditched me.”

Despite his flustered countenance, the man actually looked _offended_ speaking of his friend’s abandonment. Viktor chuckled bitterly as the two of them continued to turn about the dance floor. “Funny. I was practically abandoned tonight as well. It seems we have something in common.”

The man blinked up at him through the silver. Viktor smiled down, wondering what the man was thinking. Wondering how well his charm was working.

Something changed in the man’s expression then, as the two of them continued around the room. At least, Viktor thought so. Something soft in his eyes becoming harder. Sharper. “I think,” he said slowly, “there might be a few things we have in common.”

Viktor raised his brows, arousal stirring in his core. Was that a _challenge_ in the human man’s gaze? Fine. Whatever the human wanted, for now. Then Viktor would get _his_ , later. That was how this place worked, after all.

“You think so?” he said with a smirk, suddenly acutely aware of the angry stares still pointed his way. They wanted to be jealous? Let them. Viktor couldn’t have cared less. Especially just then. Especially with that tantalizing way the man was biting his lip. And fuck, it was refreshing to have a partner who could actually dance. Most of Viktor’s clients were limp and lifeless on the floor—most were the same in bed. He was starting to wonder if there was a correlation.

“Well, we both have inconsiderate friends,” he began, and Viktor snorted. “We both seem to be able to hold our own on the dance floor, I think.” Viktor chuckled again. The man’s shyness was somehow severely attractive, particularly since the words themselves were bold. Viktor thought it must have been a real effort of bravery for the man to talk with him like this.

“We seem to share a taste in clothing,” he continued pointedly, and Viktor wanted to smack himself on the forehead.

Of course. That was why the man’s outfit had stirred something in him—clearly, they both commissioned their costumes from Katsuki’s. It was obvious in the quality of the fabric, in the careful, particular stitching.

“Fine taste, I must say,” Viktor said without missing a beat. Smooth, as always. Collected.

“And…” the man said, some sort of fear creeping back into his voice. The music came to an end, but the man’s hands remained on him as he chewed at his bottom lip. “And,” he said again, finally meeting Viktor’s gaze with a blushing intensity he had not been expecting. He was taken aback, but to his eternal relief he managed to maintain his cool, aloof stare.

Another song rang out and the Masquerade continued around them, but neither man nor vampire moved. The human swallowed. His words were quiet as he spoke. “We both want your teeth in my skin and—and your tongue on my neck.” The man looked up through his lashes, red staining his cheeks as if he were mortified by his own words. “D—don’t we?”

Viktor’s composure wavered, nearly snapped.

To offset his shock, he pulled the man closer and began to lead him through the music. The man stumbled slightly but caught up immediately, much to Viktor’s growing excitement.

“Say we do,” he said, leaning close to the man’s ear, delighting in the shiver that it caused. “Tell me, human. How do you like it?”

The man stiffened, tripping over his feet. Viktor righted him with more than a little amusement. He didn’t usually tease his clients—he was supposed to be nice, to encourage them to come back. But hell, he just couldn’t seem to help himself.

“How do I—oh. Um.” His lips parted slightly as he looked up at Viktor, as he seemed to think hard about his question. “I guess I’ve never really thought about it before.”

Viktor snorted, then let out a full laugh. If he had been expecting anything in answer to his question, that certainly wasn’t it. It made sense, though. Humans only came here for the bite. And possibly the novelty of having experienced ‘a place like this.’ The rest of the sex seemed to be just an added bonus for most of them, a trifle for the rest. Many of them didn’t even request the sex—especially those who had been coming to this place for a while.

It often made Viktor wonder how this whole situation affected his clients’ sexual relationships with other humans.

“Wh—what do _you_ like?” The man asked, growing delightfully pink around the ears once again. Viktor wondered if he knew he was adorable, if he were using it to his advantage somehow. He thought not, but it was often impossible to tell, with humans.

And truthfully, Viktor had never really thought about it either. It wasn’t as if he had ever been asked something like that before. Nobody seemed to care much for _his_ pleasure. Not that that wasn’t expected. And he had no doubt this man would prove to be no different, in the end.

So he settled on: “I like it rough on your end, gentle on mine.” The man’s eyes met his under the mask, expression wholly unreadable. The man would most likely collapse into ecstasy after the first bite, Viktor thought, twirling the man out into a sharp spin, twirling him back in. It didn’t really matter what Viktor said.

“Y—you want _me_ to be rough?” the man asked, keeping perfect time with the music despite the troubled note in his voice.

Viktor bit back a laugh. He didn’t want the poor human to think he was mocking him. If anything, this couldn’t be considered more than light teasing, right? “If that’s something you are capable of.”

The man’s mouth opened upon hearing the challenge in Viktor’s voice. The question. “I—I think maybe…”

Christ in hell, was he really _considering_ whether or not he could be rough in bed with a vampire? Viktor wanted to laugh, but it also made him a bit concerned. Was this man braver than he seemed, or simply foolish?

A sudden yell sliced through the atmosphere between them. Both vampire and human looked to see a young man rushing toward them. Like theirs, his mask was one of shining silver. “Yuu—uh, I mean, Pork Cutlet Bowl!” Viktor raised a brow as his dance partner groaned, pulling away.

“I thought we’d agreed on a different code name,” he said to the man, whom Viktor was now assuming was the friend he had originally come with.

His partner’s friend shrugged, glancing at Viktor for a brief moment before grabbing the man’s arm and beginning to lead him away. “Eros doesn’t really fit you, you know.”

Victor’s brows shot up as his partner groaned again. Eros, huh? It was one of the main rules of the Masquerade, to give a fake name. That way, the identities of human and vampire could be kept secret. That, along with the equally important: Never, _ever_ take off your mask, were written in very bold letters over the outside steps of the front door.

“That isn’t what I meant, hamster boy.” He wrenched free of his friend’s arm. “And what are you doing? I’m—I was having fun.”

Hamster boy grinned at his own nickname. “I told you before, we can’t spend much time here. And we certainly can’t afford—” he glanced back at Viktor, who offered a small, sarcastic wave of his hand “—things like that.”

“A—actually, I’ve come into some money recently,” Viktor’s partner stammered, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly.

But his friend was already shaking his head, and he once again grabbed his arm. “Seriously Yu—Pork Cutlet. If my family finds out we were here, I’m complete toast.”

“B—but—”

“Excuse me,” Viktor cut in, no longer amused by these human antics. He grabbed his partner’s other arm with enough force to pull him to his side, but gently enough, he hoped, that it wouldn’t be painful. Languidly, he smiled at hamster boy even as he draped his own arm over his partner’s shoulders, tugging him close against his chest. “Surely you can spare a few minutes, hmm?”

Hamster boy stared at him, obviously wondering if it was worth it to try to take his friend back. Wondering if he should clarify exactly how long ‘a few minutes’ would take. Apparently having decided against both, he crossed his arms and relented. “Fine. I guess a few minutes is fine.”

Viktor made a point to flash his teeth at the man before leading his partner off the dance floor and into the back of the building.

Before he reached the door of his assigned room, Viktor stopped, placing his hands on either of the man’s shoulders. He stared at him as seriously as he could. “This is what you wanted, yes?”

The man was red all over, blushing fierce scarlet. “Yes,” he said. There was much more resolve to his voice than Viktor had been anticipating, and he reminded himself not to get too excited.

“Good,” he answered, pushing the door to his room open and allowing the human to step in before locking the bolt.

The interior of his room was simple and clean, consisting of nothing but a king sized bed complete with four posts and a red canopy top, and a huge plush chair in the corner. A door on the far wall led to a restroom with a crappy but technically working shower, in which any blood could be washed off after the deed had been done.

The bed was rarely used—almost never, in fact, as Viktor usually just pushed his clients into the chair and straddled them, sinking his teeth in with little to no foreplay. The humans didn’t seem to mind.

Viktor would never have confessed this to a client, but sex was rarely actually had in this room. Hadn’t been since he’d realized it was pretty much unnecessary.

“Alright, _Eros_ ,” Viktor said with a chuckle, turning toward the human. “A few minutes and counting. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable on the—”

Chair, he was going to say. But, much to his surprise, he now found that he had been pushed—indeed, rather roughly—down onto the bed. It took a moment to realize what had happened, and by then the human was already on top of him, unbuttoning his pants.

“Hold on, wait,” Viktor said, laughingly pushing the man off of him and leaning up on his elbows. “I’m rather fond of this costume. Please be careful.”

The man’s wide, delighted grin was yet another reaction Viktor hadn’t been expecting. “Don’t worry,” the man said. “I think I know what I’m doing.”

“Oh?” Viktor said, and the man’s grin only widened.

“Definitely. More than most, when it comes to this,” he answered, and Viktor had to laugh. The man was still red in the ears, but most of his timidity seemed to have been left behind the moment they had stepped into the bedroom.

He let his head fall back onto the bed and stared at the red silk that hung over him. So eager, he thought. He wondered if the man would come back—wondered if he would still want the sex after he had experienced the bite. “Hurry up down there,” he said. “We haven’t got a lot of time, so you’d better be undressing yourself too— _aah_ —”

His words were cut off sharply at the entirely unexpected sensation of lips around his cock, of wet tongue swirling in circles around the tip. Viktor was hard in an instant, prompting the human to remove his mouth, to start licking up the sides of Viktor’s shaft with wide, precise movements, turning his head slightly to the side as he licked back down.

Viktor scrambled to push himself back up by his elbows, but fucking hell it was difficult to force himself to move just then. He could see the top of the man’s head, moving up and down with the rhythm of his tongue, and god if Viktor didn’t want to grab him by the hair, to thrust fully into his mouth and fuck his throat until he was satisfied.

How long had it been, since _Viktor_ had been the one receiving something like this? He honestly couldn’t remember, and anyway the thought was out of his mind as soon as it had entered, when the man took him back into his mouth—all of him.

A small, needy noise escaped from Viktor’s lips, and he swore loudly, as if that could possibly redeem him. The man pulled away only to pull Viktor’s pants off completely and toss them to the floor before resuming that slow, maddening dance of tongue on skin. It was true that he’d implied that the human should take charge, but never in a hundred years did Viktor think he would have taken the teasing words to heart.

Not that he was complaining.

He should have spoken up, though. Probably should have told the human that a ‘few minutes’ wouldn’t be enough for this kind of thing. Not with him. But being sucked off like this… Something heavy and warm was beginning to stir in his core, and Viktor wanted to surrender to it. Wanted to embrace this man with everything he had. Wanted to hear his name, screamed from between the man’s lips while they—

The human’s eyes met his as his head came up—heated and heavy lidded, lashes long and dark and partially hidden within the shadows of his mask. There was no desperation in that gaze, not the way Viktor thought there might be. There was just… pleasure. As if the human were actually enjoying himself.

And with that thought—much to his horrified surprise—Viktor came.

The human looked just as startled, eyes widening as wet warmth filled his mouth. But he swallowed, licking away any cum that had dripped down, making Viktor shudder.

The man wiped his mouth with his sleeve, sat up on his knees. The two of them stared at each other for a beat, and then the human was laughing nervously, biting his lip. “I—I guess I should go.”

_What?_

Viktor blinked. Surely the human wasn’t about to leave without receiving what he’d come here for.

“I’ve got to go,” the man said again, standing to make his way to the door, to pull it partly open. But he was staring at Viktor with an expression that said he really, really didn’t want to.

Viktor sat up, head still swimming. “Wait, but what about the—”

“I’ll be back,” the man promised, coloring once again. “Next weekend. I’ll be back.” 

“Wait!” Viktor pushed himself off the bed, not bothering to put his pants back on before walking purposefully toward the man, slamming shut the half-opened door. He stood above the human, one hand braced against the wall over his head. His eyes blinked up at him, but the mask shielded any more of his expression. “Your name,” Viktor said softly. “You don’t have to give it to me, but—”

“Yuuri,” the man said with very little hesitation. He pushed the door back open, eyes never leaving Viktor’s. “I’ll be back.”

And then he was gone.

Viktor stared at the door a moment, as if it might open again, as if the man— _Yuuri_ —would come back through so they might continue where they left off. But the door remained closed, and Viktor sunk back down onto the bed. 

Shit, that had all happened so fast. 

For the first time in many years, Viktor felt at a loss. Like he was missing something important. He made a fist, reminding himself to stay positive.

One week until the next Masquerade, and he would be back. _Yuuri_ —Viktor spoke the name aloud and god, it was beautiful.

He squeezed his eyes shut, letting himself fall onto his back. He was getting ahead of himself. He had no way of knowing what was going to happen, if the human was even really coming back. If this whole thing wasn't just some crazy made up figment of his imagination and he was actually losing his mind… And yet…

Viktor looked at the red silk above him, somehow a brighter color than it was before.

One week.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you’ve enjoyed so far!! Next chapter, Viktor ~returns the favor~ and more, so stay tuned!
> 
> A couple things!  
> 1\. I did absolutely no research for this, at all. I do not know anything about handmade clothing, let alone the stores in which they are sold, so I apologize if that whole situation was just incredibly wrong.  
> 2\. Don’t even ask me the time period in which this fic takes place because I have no earthly clue. I figured it didn’t really matter for this first chapter, so I’ve decided to flesh that whole thing out later. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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